Isolate
by AlTHR33
Summary: After being denied access to a UN meeting, Gilbert realizes just how isolated he is from the world of "Nations", and it may just take a certain special Italian to get him to trust again. PruIta later. Rating for swearing.


Well, I kinda just wanted to get a story for this couple done before I delve into my many planned stories for Ita-cest (yes, I'm a fan, in case you missed that piece of info in my profile.) Yup...so I had a few hours on the computer today, but not nearly enough to get a chapter of Bon Anniversaire done (those take me days) so if you're a fan of that story I'm sorry, I'll get it finished one of these days. I'm not gonna take the time to proofread right now, because then this story would never get started. This is just a little start to it, because I haven't updated anything in months and felt the need to do this. This hasn't even really started yet, this is just something of a prologue. If you didn't notice it's really short. Yeah...okay, we'll get started. Honestly, I can't tell you what you might expect of this fic, because I have no idea! I have nothing planned...let's see where this takes us...

Warning, human names used...and italics are memory (most of this chapter)

Disclaimer: **I DON'T OWN HETALIA IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM! (because if I did there probably wouldn't be a Prussia in it, and what a tragedy that would be!)**

"Bruder, are you going to actually get up sometime today?" the blonde's husky voice called from the outside face of the door. He knocked roughly one more time, already knowing what his response would be. Receiving silence, he sighed and shook his head. "Whatever. If you want to waste your life away in bed, go ahead. You're going to fall out of shape, though." Thinking that perhaps the threat would entice the albino into a bit of a workout, Ludwig listened through the door again. Nothing. Not even a bit of shuffling, or maybe the click of a light being turned on. "Fine. I have a meeting with a few other nations in regards of trade, so I may not be home until later. Don't destroy my house in that time." With that, he walked away, shaking his head in pity for his elder brother, unknowing of the crimson eyes that glared at his retreating shadow from underneath his pillow.

The albino ex-nation scoffed, rolling over to get comfortable enough to fall back to sleep. "'Other nations,'" he repeated in a low, rueful voice. "Bastard. Even West looks down on me now..."

~.~.~

_"Oi, Toni! Francis!" he sang out, waltzing into the meeting room for the first time since the close of the war. The two nations looked up in surprise; they hadn't even heard from Gilbert in what seemed like ages. "What's this, not saving my seat?" He walked over to his normal place next to his two old friends, shooing the mini-limey-bastard out of his chair. "Move it or lose it, kid!"_

_Peter pouted up at the albino, but moved none the less, trudging over to his real seat next to his older brother._

_Francis got up, pulling Gilbert into a tight hug, which Antonio joined soon after. "Mon ami, what are you doing here?" he asked cautiously._

_Gilbert pushed the two countries off of him, sliding into his seat lazily. "What are you talking about? These meetings would be even more painful if you didn't have the awesome me to brighten your day! Kesesesese~!"_

_Antonio suddenly looked horribly uncomfortable. "That's not what he meant, amigo," he said in a hushed voice, seeming hesitant to say what was on his mind. "You don't...belong here."_

_Gilbert blinked at him, not quite registering what the Spaniard was trying to say. Francis spoke again, trying to cushion the blow of what they both wanted to remind Gilbert of. "You see...mon copain, after the wall came down we expected you here the next meeting, or at least the one after that. It's been months since-"_

_"I had to heal, dammit! That commie's a sadistic bastard, you know!" Gilbert looked away from them, sketching out of boredom on the notebook West had given him for notes long ago. "The important thing is that I'm here now, gracing you with my awesome presence once again."_

_The Frenchman and Spaniard shared a wary look before both fell silent. They figured they might as well not reveal the wound they knew Gilbert had hidden under his conceited smirk. Everyone in the room already knew it was there. Things like this didn't go long without notice._

_How could they not have known? Their bosses had all given them an updated world map._

~.~.~

_"Hey, West! What's for breakfast~?" he asked, walking over to his little brother, who sat at the table sorting through his mail. He looked up at Gilbert, pulling off his reading glasses and shoving a short stack of envelopes to him._

_"I can't cook, bruder, I've got a meeting. The Fuhrer is still having trouble getting everything organized, and what's more, he's still having difficulty with the other nation's bosses. They haven't forgiven or forgotten quite yet." He got up, placing his own mail, along with the letter he was just reading, neatly on the table. He walked to the foyer, calling out to Gilbert on his way there. "Feliciano baked a cake for us, if you want to eat some of that. He still doesn't believe that I hold no hard feelings, the idiot." Gilbert chuckled at the fond tone his brother used on the last few words, then proceeded to snoop through his brother's mail. Maybe there was some sort of love note or something that he could hold against him._

_Of course, the first thing he saw was the opened letter on top of the pile._

_Picking it up, he perused the contents, soon dropping it to search for his own identical letter._

That's weird, _he thought, searching the pile a second time. _West always tells me when we get world meeting notifications...

_After a third time shuffling through his envelopes, he realized that there was no identical letter. Had he not been invited?_

No, of course not,_ he assured himself, dropping the entire pile. They just wanted to save paper, knowing that the two now lived in the same house. Two notifications really weren't necessary, obviously!_

_He laughed at himself, pushing all of the mail aside for now. What was he worried about? Right now, all he should be focusing on was a certain adorable Italian's amazing baking, which without a doubt lay, untouched, in a pan on the top shelf of the fridge._

_For now, that letter should hold no place in his mind._

_~.~.~_

_"What?" Gilbert demanded, glaring at the human denying his entrance to the meeting room. "What do you mean 'they've banned me'? Who the fuck are _you_ to deny _me _the right to go in?"_

_The man, only slightly taller than Gilbert, and by no means anywhere as lean, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Beilschmidt, but they said they can't allow you here anymore. They won't keep you from the world meetings, but UN meetings are strictly for the recognized nations."_

_"Bull shit, I'm still here, aren't I? If I'm not a nation then what the fuck am I?" he protested, trying once more to push past the obnoxious human blocking his path._

_"East," Ludwig said, putting his hand on the infuriated albino's shoulder. "Don't argue. Just go home."_

_For an instant, Gilbert's eyes flashed with a horrid mixture of shock, pain, and betrayal, before they returned to the same raw fury he felt before. He glared at both the pitiful stares he was receiving before ripping away from the touch of both men. He averted his eyes, disgusted by the sight of both men, and by the other nations that were now curiously watching the display from within the meeting room. "Whatever," he growled, lips curling and nose crinkled. "It's not like I really want to spend my day with you totally unawesome stiffs. I've got better things to do than hang around and listen to these fuckers bullshit about things they'll never solve." He turned, ready to storm away despite the feeling of nausea rolling through his stomach._

_"Bruder-" Ludwig tried, reaching out a hand to calm his tense brother._

_"Fuck off, West!" Gilbert snarled, taking off out of the building, unaware that among the nations watching, there was one select person who, though the most cowardly, would have followed him if he'd been able. Would have braved that rigid fury in hopes of helping the poor ex-nation._

_The only one who sincerely would have tried to help._

~.~.~

He opened his eyes, glaring at the clock. Half past ten. A mere hour later than when West had woken him up before.

He huffed out, irritated, knowing that real sleep was beyond him at this point. "Verdammt, West. Why the hell'd you have to wake me up..."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching as he dragged himself to his feet. He glanced around at his surroundings, glaring through the dark at the unwelcoming world.

Yep, today would be just like the last few days. Worthless. Boring. Lonely. Totally un-fucking-awesome.

_~Fin~_

So there it is. Not my best, but don't shun it just yet. Once we get into the PruIta, it'll get better. First thing's first, we gotta get Italy into the story. Um...yeah, if you need translation go ahead and tell me, but for now I'm just gonna let you have fun with your language skills. There's nothing too complicated in here, and I just wanna get it up while I have the chance. So, I'd love reviews but I don't expect them. Just bear with me until chapter two, okay? Thanks for reading! (By the way, in case you couldn't tell from all of the swearing, Gilbert isn't a happy guy right now. Actually, it was supposed to be that he's feeling worse than he can cope with, and it's at least a year after the Reunification...)


End file.
